Roll of the Dice
by Flaming Trails
Summary: A short, humorous fic about a little trick Fate plays on Doc Brown and his family. Trilogy Story, Back To The Fanfic Challenge Fic.


Roll of the Dice

By Flaming Trails

A BTTF: Trilogy Story

Disclaimer: I don't own BTTF. If I did, I would be busy trying to convince Michael J. Fox's people to let us have a Marty McFly action figure already.

_Notes: Written for the February '07 backtothefanfic challenge, prompt B. I just thought the concept was funny. I used the ages the Animated Anecdotes on the Part III DVD supplied for Jules and Verne along with the commonly accepted birth years, which is why the starting date is in 1892 instead of the more common 1895. The last line is taken from the Terminator 2: Judgement Day novel._

Monday, April 4th, 1892

Hill Valley

11:02 A.M.

"Well, here we are, home again home again!"

Doc piloted the train down onto the tracks stretching over Eastwood Ravine as Clara and the boys unbuckled. He turned and grinned at his sons. "So, what did you think of 1985?"

"Much better than 2023," Jules said. "Still too noisy, though."

"You'll get used to it. Remember, we're eventually going to have to move there. There's only so long we can get away with living in the past."

Jules and Verne looked sad. "We will be able to come back here to visit, right?" Jules asked. "And see all our friends?"

"Yes, we can come back to visit every so often," Doc reassured him. "We're going to tell people that we're moving to someplace in northern California, so it won't look too odd if we come back and say hello once in a while."

Jules brightened. "Good."

"Was that really Marty?" Verne asked, frowning.

"Of course it was! Why would I show you a fake Marty? He looked like the Marty you saw in the future, right?"

Verne shrugged. "I dunno. I thought he was – bigger."

Doc couldn't help a smile. "I see. I guess the way I've described him must have been larger than life in more than one way."

Clara chuckled. "I think we rather startled him, showing up like that." Her smile turned into a frown. "Probably startled everyone else on that block as well. Are you _sure_ no one else saw us?"

"Clara, I talked to Marty before we left, remember? He assured me that it took a little while for the police to get to the crossing. I didn't see another person anywhere near the train."

"You're sure?"

"Positive." Doc went over and kissed her. "You know me. I may like to be a little showy, but I'm always careful."

Clara smiled again. "What about all those colorful new curse words you've taught me?"

"Hurting myself with various tools doesn't count."

Jules and Verne were looking at him curiously again. "Papa, did you like going back to 1985?" Jules asked.

"Yes, I did," Doc admitted. "I certainly love the 19th century, but the 20th is the one I grew up in. I missed a lot about that world – the sounds, the sights, the technology. . . ."

"The technology?" Clara repeated, looking startled.

"Yes." Doc cocked his head, puzzled. "I'm an inventor, Clara. Why would you be surprised that I'd want better technology than we have in this era?"

"I suppose I shouldn't be. It's just that you've managed to build so much of it for us anyway."

"I can't duplicate everything, my dear. Steam and clockwork can only go so far, and I'm stretching the limits as it is. Getting this train to work was, in essence, a miracle."

Clara hugged him. "I knew you'd do it, though. After everything I'd seen you do, I knew you were a man who could make miracles happen."

Doc grinned and blushed with pride. "Thank you. Though I could have never done it without your support. This train is as much your invention as it is mine."

Now it was Clara's turn to blush. "I don't know about that, you're the one who built it."

"Yes, but you're the one who kept me going. And considering I made sure you knew _how_ I built it, just in case, I think my previous statement still applies." Doc kissed her again, ignoring the disgusted noises from his sons, then headed back to the controls. "Well, we mustn't linger too long here. We've got a lot to do in the upcoming days. I've got to write Marty again, for one thing, and let him know what's going to happen." Doc smiled brightly. "Great Scott, it was good to see him again. I'm so glad he got out of the DeLorean in time! If – if--"

"Oh, Emmett, don't start with that again," Clara said, going over to hug him from the back. "He's alive. You shouldn't dwell on what might have happened."

Doc nodded. "You're right. The important thing is that he's all right. I really wish we'd gotten more of a chance to talk to him, but I didn't want to stay too long and risk being seen." He frowned again. "I should have hugged him. A handshake, after all we've been through together, seems a tad inadequate."

"Well, I suspect we'll be seeing a lot of him in the next few days," Clara reminded him. "You'll have your chance then."

Doc's smile returned. "True enough."

"Are we going to live with him?" Verne asked as he sat down on the bench again.

Doc laughed. "No, we're not. I've actually got an idea of the kind of house I'd like already. There's this one street away from the heart of the town that's been mostly abandoned – and with this thing, it's probably best we avoid neighbors."

"I hope it's not too close to the ravine," Clara said, shuddering.

"No, a good few miles off. Though a tunnel from our house to the ravine would be useful. I'll have to look into renting some sort of future earth-mover for that job."

"You're sure we're going to have enough money for all of this. . . ."

"Well, we'll have the money from our current bank account, though we'll need to convert it into modern dollars. And I'm sure we can get quite a bit more from selling my old garage. A certain gift store has had its eye on the land for a while now – they'd make us a good offer. I think we should be all right."

"If we don't end up in one of those 'tabloids' you mentioned," Clara muttered. "Are you _sure_ no one saw us?"

"Clara, I'm positive. We got a lucky roll of the dice in that situation. No one in 1985 saw any--"

Doc suddenly stopped as he looked out the window. Clara felt a prickle of worry go up her spine. "Emmett? What is it?" she asked, getting up and joining him.

Doc swallowed and pointed. Clara looked.

There, gawking up at them, was a flabbergasted Seamus McFly.

Fate does love a jest.

The End


End file.
